


Naked

by StarsMadeinHeaven



Category: South Park
Genre: Blood and Violence, M/M, Psychic Abilities, major character deaths, not laid out in full detail though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 11:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsMadeinHeaven/pseuds/StarsMadeinHeaven
Summary: Kyle Broflovski was the youngest detective in his county. A Sherlock Holmes of sort, armed with a short temper and a secret power. When a dangerous serial killer started attacking the most powerful superheroes in town, Kyle soon realized that there was only one man who could stop him: Mysterion.





	Naked

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of people I need to thank here.  
> LWTIS, for listening to my plea of help and being a wonderful BETA. Thank you! Honestly, you did a wonderful job. I don't know what I would have done without you.  
> Panacea, for her constant support and admiration even when I don't deserve either. My love is hidden in this work. Thank you!  
> Towny, who shared her free ideas and I got inspired by two of them, although I ended up not following the prompts to the fullest. Moreover, she suggested I tried to get out of my comfort zone and this is the result. Thank you for the support, my friend.  
> And of course, I want to thank all of you, who stick up for me even when there are writers out there who deserve much more recognition. This fandom is just so kind, and I'm so happy to be part of it. 
> 
> This is my first action fic. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! Enjoy! <3

### Naked

Panting loudly, the man pressed himself against the wall, fingers scratching the grout like a cornered animal. It had been a long chase, and now here they were, the bank robber and the vigilante, both working solo, both hiding their faces behind a dark mask.

“Shit.” The man snapped his head left and right. He searched for a way out, or a hiding place, but this blind alley offered neither. The vigilante took a step forwards, raising a gloved hand towards him. The thick beard under the other’s lips started shaking. Suddenly, the fear in his eyes was replaced by sheer determination. 

When the vigilante found himself a breath away from the robber, the man finally made his move. Using the back of his unloaded gun, he smacked his pursuer over the head, all his strength put into that single hit. Life in prison flashed before the man’s eyes, and the vigilante got snippets of it before the skin above his ear was torn open, blood gushing out, staining the dark metal and his own mask with red. 

Suddenly gaining the upper hand, the man struck again. And again. And again. With each blow, the back of the gun found a new target: above his right eyebrow, his nose, the back of his skull. He used his leg to kick the vigilante down, pushing him into the ground and kept hitting, scratching until he got a glimpse of his pursuer’s young face and a strand of blond hair. 

And then he stopped.

“Serves you right,” the man whispered between broken breaths. The vigilante - Mysterion, he reminded himself - lay on the ground, his head hacked into a bloody mess of tissue and brain matter. It was horrifying, but the man was glad to be alive. 

Sliding his gun back into its holster, the man waddled across the blind alley. The moon shone brightly above him, beaconing his steps.

He was so focused on himself that he didn’t hear the cracking sounds behind his back. Splinters of bone embedded into the skull, the tissue slowly sewing itself back together. A single drop of blood ran down the vigilante’s cheek, the nose popping back into a straight line.

Eyes as blue as the sky snapped open. 

The man was not far away when Mysterion elegantly rose back on his feet. Cape swirling around his legs, he adjusted the mask over his eyes, bottom lip jutted out in a frown. 

“Haven’t you caused enough harm already?” the vigilante asked calmly, voice hoarse. It made a shiver run down the robber’s spine.

“What the hell…” The man was speechless. He slowly turned around, his eyes wide open with terror as the vigilante unhurriedly strutted towards him. Mysterion stank of blood and death. The black cape coiled around his shoulders; the alley was suddenly engulfed in darkness. 

The man stumbled backwards and lost his balance, falling on his bum like a third grader. He grabbed his mask and tore it off to stare at the face of the vigilante, a pleading sound escaping his lips. There was nothing to be said, no words of comfort, no mercy. 

The vigilante raised his hand, and the man asked for forgiveness with his eyes shut. 

****

Detective Kyle Broflovski rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily. The police sirens wailed tirelessly around him, tincturing the world with bright red and blue. A herd of curious onlookers gathered around the perimeter of yellow police tape, mumbling empty words to each other.

Honestly, Kyle hated the likes of them. Sheep, that’s what they were. What if he fired a warning shot in the air? They would probably take their expensive smartphones out and record the whole thing. 

“So, what do we have here?” Kyle asked, tearing his gaze away from a blond reporter who was trying to get past the security. 

“A shooting, sir,” a young police officer answered him, placing his hands on his waist and whistling at the bank’s blood-stained windows. “We’ve got five dead, more injured in their haste to get out, and the robber tied to the lamppost.” 

“What?!” 

Frowning, Kyle gently shoved the officer away to make a beeline towards the only lamppost in front of the contiguous parking place. Indeed, there was a bearded man tied to it, gagged with duct tape. Kyle hissed in pity; it was going to hurt like hell when they were going to rip it from his mouth. 

At the sight of him, the man started mumbling incoherent words against the duct tape rabidly. A muffled sound, further hushed by the ruckus he made as he desperately pulled at his restraints. Chains. Kyle knew only one vigilante who would go to such dramatic lengths. Rolling his eyes skywards, Kyle kneeled next to the robber, silencing him with a heated glare. 

They stared each other down for while, until Kyle saw the man’s encounter with Mysterion in his mind’s eye. A cape as black as coal, the back of a gun, blood on the robber’s hands, and then the panicked cry of a dozen of people as he stormed into the bank. The sound of a gunshot. A man dropping on the floor like dead meat. 

“He’s our bank robber,” Kyle declared, standing back on his feet. “Lock him up.” 

Two police officers immediately snapped to attention, and hurried to obey the detective’s orders without delay. Kyle sighed and wiped his hands against his jeans, wincing when he heard the cry of the robber behind him. The duct tape was off. 

“Who tied him up?” the young officer who greeted him at the scene asked, quickly falling in step with Kyle as the two walked towards one of the police cars. The only one parked hastily in front of the bank’s entrance. 

“Mysterion, obviously,” Kyle said, pulling the handle. The young officer stopped in his tracks, a forlorn look in his bright chestnut eyes. 

“Mysterion?” he asked, almost reverent. “He’s a cool guy, that Mysterion. Some say he’s not even human.” 

Kyle shook his head in disappointment and opened the driver’s door a little bit wider, ready to hop in and get out of there as soon as possible. It was too early in the morning to deal with this shit. He needed coffee, _now_. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Kyle patted his chest in search of his car keys. 

Before he could start the car, the sound of heels against concrete got his attention. The younger officer let out a loud cry of protest when the blond reporter from earlier unceremoniously shoved him aside. 

“Bebe Stevens, from the Daily News,” she introduced herself. 

“Miss, you are not allowed to be here!” the officer retorted. The force of the glare Stevens threw his way sent him stumbling backwards. 

“Detective Broflovski,” she tried again, placing her manicured fingers on the car’s roof to keep Kyle from shutting the door in her face. “Is it true Mysterion caught the robber before the police? What’s your opinion on the topic and on vigilantes in general?” 

“Get her out of here, Donovan,” Kyle ordered, pulling the door towards him. Vehemently protesting, Stevens slapped the officer’s hand away. 

“Detective Broflovski!” she cried, but Kyle shut the door and put the keys in the ignition. “Do you think mutants are a menace to society?” she persisted, knocking on Kyle’s window with her white knuckles. Donovan tried to pull her away, and Kyle shot him a pitying look as he reversed and pulled the car into the traffic. 

Not even a minute later, Kyle’s phone started ringing. He swore loudly under his breath, holding onto the steering wheel with one hand while patting the passenger’s seat with the other. He let out a sigh of relief when his fingers wrapped around his old phone. 

“Coming back to the station?” a familiar voice asked the moment Kyle put the receiver against his ear.

“Yes, Stan,” Kyle said, pulling to a stop at a red light. “Mysterion got there first.” 

“What makes you so certain it’s him?” 

The images he got from the robber flashed rapidly behind his eyelids, floating in tinted blue water, swimming briefly in his consciousness until they sank back down. 

“I just know,” Kyle said. The stop light turned green and the police car rolled into motion again. “I’m going to get coffee first.” 

Stan sighed. Kyle could hear telephones ringing in the background, the familiar sounds of a busy police station. The annoying pen clicking hinted at Stan’s disapproval, but neither of them said anything for a long, awkward moment. 

Stan’s sigh broke the silence. 

“Don’t be late.” With that said, Stan hung up and Kyle threw his phone on the passenger's seat again. 

There was a coffeehouse near the police station that Kyle particularly liked. It was a bad rip-off of a Starbucks shop, but the baristas were friendly and the queue was never that long. 

Plus, _he_ worked there.

“Hey, Detective Broflovski!” a jovial voice greeted him as soon as Kyle opened the door. The whirring of the coffee machines momentarily muffled his voice, but Kyle could hear him loud and clear. A sound that made his heart beat fast in his chest. 

“Good morning, McCormick.” Kyle said. He let his eyes wander over the baked goods, tidily placed in a glass cabinet, before he shifted his gaze to the blond barista in a red apron. 

“I thought we were past the use of last names.” McCormick laughed, turning to fiddle with the coffee machine. 

“You started it, Kenny,” Kyle said, a small, unexpected smile stretching across his lips. He coughed in embarrassment when Kenny glimpsed over his shoulder, and right back at him. 

“The usual?” he asked. Already grabbing a plastic cup from the cabinet above him, Kenny proceeded to make Kyle his coffee without waiting for an answer. He worked fast and methodically, the years spent in that very coffeehouse clear in the way his hands moved, as if on their own accord. 

Kyle wished he had discovered him sooner. He meant the coffeehouse. The coffee was good, the baked goods were satisfactory and the atmosphere lacked that fake cheerfulness that was typically found in places like these. 

“Here you go.” The plastic cup was gently placed between his hands. A snort escaped Kyle when he noticed his name written in calligraphy on the side, encircled in a big heart. He searched for the money in his pocket, adding a tip for his favorite barista. 

“The heart was totally unnecessary.” 

“You’re welcome!” Kenny exclaimed, blinding him with a grin. “You seem stressed, what’s up?” 

“I’m always stressed,” Kyle said, sending a glance right and left to make sure there weren’t other patrons waiting in line. An old lady was looking at the cakes on display with interest, her nose almost an inch away from the glass. It would take her a while to make up her mind, he decided. He could hear her thoughts. She wanted something with strawberries, but her colic was going to give her hell if she ate one of those backstabbing little seeds. 

“Man, I could relieve some of that tension from your shoulders,” Kenny said, waggling his eyebrows. “I’m really good at it.” 

“Maybe next time,” Kyle said, hiding his amused grin behind his cup. “I need to go back to the station.” 

At Kenny’s inquiring look, Kyle decided to explain: “There was a shooting at the Central Bank today at 3 am. The robber was caught.” 

Kenny’s expression was unreadable. No matter how much Kyle stared and racked his brain, he couldn’t get any information out of it. Fascinating, how he could read anyone’s mind but Kenny’s. It was what attracted him to that coffeehouse in the first place. A mystery he couldn’t solve. Kenny McCormick was immune to him and countered his morning saltiness with puns and good humor. A nice change from Stan’s jealous barbs and the other officers’ irritating admiration. 

“That’s good, right?” Kenny asked, interrupting Kyle’s thoughts. It took him a while to connect Kenny’s question to his previous comment. 

“Yes, but it wasn’t the police who did it,” Kyle said, letting his irritation seep through his words. “It was Mysterion. That vigilante always gets there first.” 

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it?” Kenny asked, playing with a hangnail. 

“Vigilantism is not a solution to bad cops,” Kyle said, voice bearing no argument. “A single person can’t be the absolute arbiter of guilt or innocence.” 

“Mysterion doesn’t think himself above the law, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Kenny said, piercing Kyle with just a look. “I think he’s cool and just wants to give a hand.” 

“He’s a drama queen, at best,” Kyle said with a shrug. “He tied the robber up with _chains_. Who does that?” 

“People into S&M,” Kenny promptly replied, bursting into laughter when Kyle’s coffee shot out of his nose. The redhead coughed and put his plastic cup down, trying to clean the mess from his uniform with a minuscular napkin. 

“Man, you’re such a prude,” Kenny said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. Kyle shot him a look and reached for his cup again. 

“I need to go back to the station,” he declared, noticing the old lady’s knowing gaze flickered between the two of them. Kenny smiled at him, and before Kyle could turn around and flee, he spoke again: 

“I get off work at five.” 

Kyle snapped his head towards him in surprise, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Regret flashed across Kenny’s face and Kyle was quick to regain his voice. 

“See you at five then,” he croaked, blushing when Kenny’s lips tugged slightly upwards. He almost walked into the glass door, laughed nervously and walked out without looking back. 

Stan was already sitting at Kyle’s desk when he finally made his appearance. The noirette took his sweet time standing up, giving Kyle a look-over as the detective closed the door behind him with a sigh. 

“Is that coffee on your shirt?” Stan asked, alarmed. Kyle glanced down at the stains on his uniform and clicked his tongue in irritation. 

“I had an accident on my way here,” he explained, walking around the desk to sink into his office chair. Stan sighed loudly. 

“Butters always has a spare with him,” he said. “It should fit you.” 

“Thanks,” Kyle said, looking down at his incomplete paperwork. 

Stan shuffled his feet, debating whether to stay around or leave. Kyle didn’t need any mindreading to know what was going through his friend’s head. They had been best buddies since kindergarten, but things just got worse between them when they both joined the police force. Kyle Broflovski soon became a legend; the man who could easily resolve any crime using his wit. A Sherlock Holmes of sorts, armed with a short temper. Stan remained a simple police officer; giving out parking tickets was the peak of his career. 

Things had been easier when Kyle was oblivious about his powers. Granted, he had always known to be special, somehow. Not everyone could answer the teacher’s questions without thinking about it first. The world filled with blue when he closed his eyes. Buildings kept no secrets from him. The human mind was an open book. 

Being able to tell a lie from the truth was a big advantage when hunting a murderer down. He could dig up all his info with just one look. His first case was about a girl locked up in a secret underground cellar. She had been missing for months until Kyle finally took a glimpse into her files. Three days later, Kyle brought the kidnapper to his knees. 

Stan had asked him how he did it. Kyle kept his powers to himself. He would just look like a wannabe medium and Stan would never believe him. 

“I guess I’ll go find Butters,” Stan said, finally making up his mind. Kyle started reading through his report absentmindedly. 

“Great,” Kyle said. The sound of a door slamming forcefully shut made him wince. 

A clean shirt and a couple of hours later, Kyle’s peace was interrupted by officer Donovan’s incessant knocking. Kyle quickly checked the time on his wrist watch display before he shouted, voice loud and clearly annoyed: 

“Jesus Christ. Just come in!” 

The young officer opened the door and closed it behind him with a soft click. Chestnut eyes widened with fear, he ran hand over his chubby stomach to boost his inner courage.

“Chief Testaburger wants to see you in her office,” Donovan declared, dropping his arms to the side. Kyle scrunched his nose. 

“Couldn’t she call me or something?” 

“You wouldn’t answer the phone.” 

Kyle shot a glance towards his telephone wire, following it with his gaze until he found the plug. Damn it. He had pulled it out so no one could bother him about that morning’s case. 

“Okay, thanks.” 

Seeing that Donovan had no intention of leaving, Kyle arched an eyebrow in question. The young officer played with the last button of his shirt. Then, suddenly determined, he took a step forwards and plopped down on the only chair in front of Kyle’s desk. 

“What is it, Clyde?” Kyle asked, letting out a sigh of frustration. 

“I heard there was a murder,” Clyde whispered. Surprised, Kyle tilted his head to the side. “Around the time of tonight’s robbery. Not far away from it, in fact.” 

“Did Testaburger tell you that?” 

Clyde’s guilt was clear. 

“I might have overheard a call or two.” 

Sighing loudly, Kyle stood up, jumping back in surprise when Clyde did the same, knocking the chair over in the process. 

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Kyle asked, staring into Clyde’s chestnut eyes. The fear he perceived in them was like a punch to the chest. Fast and merciless. Relatable. 

“How much do you know about mutants?” Clyde asked, voice shaking with emotion. Opting not to speak, Kyle let Clyde do all the talking. “Or people with superpowers in general.” 

“They are not highly looked upon.” Kyle’s neutral opinion put Clyde’s heart at ease. 

“People fear them, that’s all,” Clyde said. “There are a few of them who try to use their powers for good.” 

“Yes, and there are some who do exactly the contrary.” 

“Mysterion is not one of them.” 

Kyle’s bitter smile went unnoticed. “I wasn’t talking about him, but do go on.” 

“I’m-!” Clyde bit his lip, shot a glance behind him and stepped closer to Kyle. “I heard someone is out to kill them. The victim today was a well-known mutant, called the Coon.” 

That caught Kyle totally off guard. 

“Good riddance,” he said, easily overcoming his surprise. “He made a lot of enemies along the way, including the police force.” 

“Yes, but-!” Clyde insisted, lowering his voice when he noticed a shadow stopping outside the door. “Apparently, he’s not the first.” 

Kyle’s arched eyebrow made Clyde uneasy. 

“Another registered mutant died some days ago under suspicious circumstances.” Clyde’s words sounded incredibly similar to something Wendy would say. Before Kyle could ask him about it, the young officer leaned in closer, as if seeking comfort in Kyle’s proximity. “What if there’s a serial killer out there? A very dangerous one.” 

Kyle lowered his gaze to his feet, overwhelmed by the images racing across his mind. Clyde was right. No one should be able to kill a mutant easily. Kyle had never pierced the officer’s soul before that moment, but now he could see, as clear as day, that Clyde was right to worry. Tinted in blue, Clyde levitated above the ground, a buzzing sound accompanying his every movement, soft and irritating like that of a mosquito. Blinking, Kyle focused on Clyde’s worried expression again. 

His sense of justice told him he shouldn’t be angry at Clyde for keeping his powers a secret. After all, registered mutants seldomly were admitted into a police academy. It would be hypocritical of him to reproach Clyde when he himself would have been forced to attend law school, had he chosen to abide by the law. 

“Will you find him, Kyle?” Clyde asked, letting out a shaky breath. Kyle immediately averted his gaze. 

“Let me talk to the chief first,” he said, giving Clyde’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze on his way out. 

Chief Wendy Testaburger was tapping her fingers on her desk when Kyle finally stepped into her office. Long black hair tied up in a ponytail, the dark circles around her eyes hinted at lack of sleep and too many phone calls during the night. Curtly, she motioned to the seat in front of her desk. 

“I have a job for you,” Wendy, said straight to the point, flipping through her files. Out of curiosity, Kyle leaned across the desk to stare at the pictures Wendy had neatly lined up on the table. “I should have asked for you sooner.” 

“What’s this?” Kyle asked, lifting his eyes from the bloodied face in the pictures to hers. Wendy scrunched her nose. 

“It’s the Coon.” 

Surprised, Kyle looked down at the photos again. The self-proclaimed hero named The Coon lay in a pool of his own blood, face scratched beyond recognition. Kyle closely inspected the wounds. He had seen them plenty of times before, and they always led to one culprit. 

“Are they self inflicted?” Kyle asked, eyes wide. Wendy shook her head. 

“Not according to the coroner’s report,” she replied. “He died of blood loss.” 

Henrietta Biggle, the coroner, was the best in her field, so there was no reason to doubt her statement. Kyle nodded. 

“Time of death?” 

“Quarter to 3 am last night,” Wendy promptly replied. “Two police officers bumped into his body on their way to the Central Bank. It was still warm.” 

Kyle fixed his attention on the pictures again, trying to recognize the Coon’s typical smirk amongst all that blood. He found nothing. If it weren’t for the claws and his suit, Kyle doubted they would have identified him so easily. 

“Clyde said there was another murder before this.” Kyle’s words slipped out before his mind could register them. Wendy rolled her eyes to the ceiling in response. 

“I should tell him a thing or two about the ethics of eavesdropping,” she snapped. 

“Well?” 

“Yes, there was another murder on Wednesday,” she said, clicking her tongue, “but it might not be connected to this case.” 

He waited a few seconds for more information, but Wendy kept her mouth shut. Was she for real? 

“But two mutants were murdered a few days apart,” Kyle said, blood boiling in his veins at her uncooperation. “And two registered ones at that. The way I see it someone is-!” 

“Stop jumping to conclusions, Broflovski,” Wendy cut him off. Crossing his arms across his chest, Kyle leaned back his chair. 

Wendy tapped her fingers on her desk, her frown deepening. The seconds ticked by painfully until Wendy decided to break the silence with a snort. 

“We should keep a close eye on all registered mutants,” she said, her stare boring into Kyle’s skull. “Just in case.” 

A black cape suddenly darkened his vision, and Kyle’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. 

“You think Mysterion has something to do with it?” 

Wendy shrugged. 

“He and the Coon have never gotten along,” she explained. “And according to our bank robber, he was in the neighborhood at the time of the robbery.” 

It made sense. Mysterion and the Coon had a long history of mutual hate and bloody fights. For whatever reason, Mysterion always got the upper hand, making Kyle wonder about the extent of the vigilante’s powers, if he had any. His real identity was unknown, which made it difficult to track him down and interrogate him. If only Kyle could look him in the eyes… 

“You should keep an eye on Mysterion,” Wendy said, her tone final. “He’s our primary suspect. Track down all registered mutants while you’re at it.” 

“No one knows who Mysterion is,” Kyle protested. “How am I supposed to find him?” 

“Use your wit, Sherlock,” Wendy said, arching an eyebrow challengingly. “There’s a reason why you’re the youngest detective in our county.” 

Groaning, Kyle stood up, hating how Wendy’s lips tugged up in victory. Dismissing him with a flick of her wrist, his boss moved her chair closer to the table and turned to face her computer screen. End of conversation.

Later in the afternoon, Kyle received a copy of all registered mutants’ names. Three pages long, it was a list of all the citizens with abilities living in their state. Kyle focused on those currently residing in the city and the neighboring areas, underlining in red those who could fly or teleport. The Coon’s name was crossed out immediately. 

When he first started this job, it had surprised him immensely to see the Coon on the list. After a few encounters with Eric Cartman, however, it became pretty obvious how much the Coon enjoyed unlimited notoriety. Since he put on a superhero suit and claimed to help the police resolving their most difficult cases, the Coon strived on recognition. Eric Cartman was not his alter ego, but just another name that pointed to the Coon’s approachability and good heart. 

Pity that his reputation drove him to his death. 

Kyle never did like him, but he didn’t think the Coon deserved to die either. 

Mysterion had his up and downs with the Coon, but it wasn’t his modus operandi. The wounds on Cartman’s face were inflicted by claws as sharp as those of the Coon himself. As far as Kyle knew, Mysterion didn’t have claws. 

“If only I could talk to you…” Kyle said with a sigh, massaging his tired eyes. Glancing at the clock above his door, he realized his shift had ended ten minutes ago. Kyle shot up from his chair and hastily grabbed his jacket. 

Kenny was leaning against the wall by the coffee place when Kyle finally arrived. His face lit up upon noticing him, making Kyle’s heart beat fast against his chest. 

“Long day?” Kenny asked, lopsided grin in place. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, Kyle shrugged. 

“Another murder case on my hands,” he said. “What about you?” 

“As far as I know, I didn’t murder anyone,” Kenny replied. “But I’m dying of hunger. Do you want to grab something to eat?” 

As if on cue, Kyle’s stomach grumbled. “I guess I do,” he said, smiling when Kenny chuckled. 

“Something cheap and fast?” 

“Lead the way.” 

**** 

Time went by fast. 

Kyle was surprised by all the things they had in common. Granted, he did most of the talking, but Kenny’s humor and laughter had the power to spice up any conversation. 

The dull atmosphere of the fast-food restaurant, the fatty food, the lingering smell of frying oil did not matter. It was just Kyle and Kenny, divided by a red plastic table. 

“I should go home,” Kenny said eventually. “My sister is waiting for me.” 

“Can I have your number?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“I’m counting on it.” 

**** 

As expected, tracking Mysterion was no easy task. Kyle could drive his car around the whole city all night long, but the probability of encountering him by chance was close to zero. It was impossible to say where the vigilante would strike next or if he just appeared should a crisis arise. 

To cut a long story short, Kyle was ready to abort the mission when the unthinkable happened. 

As if Mysterion had been waiting for him, Kyle spotted a black cape waving in the wind. Perched on a roof’s edge like a vulture, Mysterion scanned the city beneath him with keen, bright eyes. 

Abruptly, Kyle pulled his car to a stop and got out. The sound of metal slamming against metal caught Mysterion’s attention. 

“Hey!” Kyle exclaimed, swearing under his breath when Mysterion jumped off the roof, momentarily disappearing from Kyle’s sight. “You bastard!” 

Grabbing his gun with one hand and his badge with the other, Kyle started running down the alleys where he predicted Mysterion had landed. The streets were dark and eerily silent. Kyle could hear the sound of his blood pumping through his body, making his ears ache. 

Goddamnit, did he lose him already? 

Kyle put his badge away to hold his gun firmly with both hands. Back against the wall, Kyle cautiously tiptoed down one of the alleys. He doubted Mysterion was armed with incredible speed, so he couldn’t have gone very far. 

“Up here.” 

Kyle snapped his head upwards. Mysterion looked down at him, a displeased smile on his lips. Groaning, Kyle fired a shot into the air, but the bullet barely scratched the tip of Mysterion’s cape. 

“What did I do to deserve this treatment, Detective Broflovski?” Mysterion asked. Kyle stared at him, slightly lowering his gun in shock. Taking advantage of this, Mysterion stood in all of his glory and jumped off the building to land in front of Kyle’s nose. 

“Put your hands up!” Kyle exclaimed, pointing the gun between Mysterion’s eyebrows. Unimpressed, the vigilante took an intimidating step forwards. “You are the primary suspect in the Coon’s death,” Kyle said between clenched teeth. “Follow me to-!” 

“The Coon?” Mysterion asked, his surprise palpable. 

“You have the right to-!” Kyle tried again, his eyes not leaving Mysterion’s masked face. 

“The Coon is dead?” Mysterion interrupted him. Irritated, Kyle cocked his gun but Mysterion didn’t even flinch. “I wish I had been the one to kill him, Broflovski.” 

“How do you know my name?” Kyle asked. Mysterion stared at him, and as much as Kyle stared back, his expression remained blank. 

“Your reputation precedes you, detective,” Mysterion said. “Now lower your gun and go back home. I’ve had enough of these silly games.” 

“You think this is a game?!” Kyle exclaimed, taking a big step forward until the barrel of his gun pressed firmly against Mysterion’s forehead. “You're under arrest, Mysterion. Follow me or-!” 

“Or what?” Mysterion cut him off. God, what an irritating trait. “Are you gonna shot me dead? Please do, detective. Show me what you’re made of.” 

Kyle hesitated. 

“Come on, pull the trigger,” Mysterion said with a smirk. “Grow some balls.” 

“You motherfucker-!” 

The sound of an explosion drowned out Kyle’s words. The two snapped their heads towards the source and squeezed their eyes shut when a burst of lighting engulfed the alley in a bright white light. 

“What was that?” Kyle asked. Lowering his gun, he jumped in surprise when thunder made the surrounding houses shake. 

“This is Wonder Tweek’s doing,” Mysterion said, eyes fixed on a point in the sky. 

“The superhero?” Kyle asked, taken aback. Mysterion didn’t answer and just bolted towards the source of all that ruckus. Groaning, Kyle followed suit. 

The cause of all that lighting soon became apparent when the two headed towards the city’s industrial park. Kyle caught a glimpse of Wonder Tweek’s partner, Super Craig, before the world was blinded by lighting again. The earth shook under his feet when Super Craig punched the asphalt with his fist. 

Kyle assumed that the two superheroes were fighting against each other until the silhouette of a man, completely dressed in black, attacked Super Craig with a crowbar. The black haired superhero stumbled backwards, letting out a sigh of frustration when the man hit him on the jaw with his temporary weapon. 

“Craig!” Floating in the air, Wonder Tweek’s hands sparked. “Don’t touch him!” 

“The fuck,” Mysterion hissed besides Kyle. The redhead shot him a furtive glance before he focused his attention on the fight again. He understood the cause of Mysterion’s disbelief when he noticed how firmly the attacker was holding on to Super Craig’s naked arm. 

“What is he doing?” Kyle asked. There was no answer to his question. A blast of energy exploded right next to Super Craig, and the man let go of the superhero’s arm to get out of the way. 

Shit. Why did the worst things happen at nighttime? Kyle should call for backup!

“Fuck.” As Kyle fumbled in his jacket’s inner pocket for his phone, a burst of light and wind almost hit him. A hand grabbed him by the back of his collar and pushed him down. Kyle had just a second to glimpse up at his rescuer before another crackling ball of electricity melted the lamppost behind them. 

“This is no place for you, Broflovski,” Mysterion said, pulling Kyle to his feet and dragging him away from the fight. 

Super Craig punched the wall of the abandoned warehouse where their attacker was now hiding, smashing it into a million of pieces as if it was nothing but waste paper. The man let out a muffled scream as broken bricks and rubble fell from above his head. A victory sound escaped Wonder Tweek’s throat and Super Craig turned to face him, a soft smile forming across his otherwise expressionless face. 

“We should call the police!” Kyle exclaimed, extricating himself from Mysterion’s tight grip and taking a step towards the other two superheroes. 

“Get out of here.” Mysterion’s warning fell on deaf ears. Kyle was already making his way to Super Craig when a terrifying rumble stopped him in his tracks. 

Large amounts of dust were thrown in the atmosphere as the masked man rose from the debris. Wonder Tweek’s hands lit up, blue lighting bolts crackling along his arms and neck. Beside him, Super Craig raised his chin in challenge, fists ready to cause some damage on their attacker’s face. 

The man, however, was anything but intimidated. He had managed to touch Super Craig before and now he was facing him in all his glory. Although he wore a mask and it was difficult to gauge his expression, there was a skip in his step, shoulders squared in arrogance and power. 

“You’re pissing me off,” Super Craig said, raising his fists in defense. The man mimicked him. Super Craig took a step forwards, the man did the same. 

“Bring it on!” Wonder Tweek shouted, lifting in the air, balls of lighting forming in his hands and brightening up his face in a terrifying way. Eyes glazing up, the atmosphere suddenly got ten times colder. The man didn’t dignify him with a look, focusing all of his attention on Super Craig instead. 

Kyle needed to intervene--! 

A bucket of blue paint tipped over the detective’s head. Suddenly, Wonder Tweek became nothing but lighting and thunder, and Super Craig’s fists radiated heat where the rest of his body was icy cold. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Mysterion asked, worry unintentionally seeping through his words. Kyle’s eyes flickered left and right, as if he couldn’t set them on the three mutants in front of them. “What’s wrong with you?” Mysterion asked again, grabbing Kyle’s arms and pulling him closer. 

The attacker was surrounded by a bright yellow aura. Kyle could feel the heat on his cheeks, like lava boiling at the bottom of a dormant volcano. Super Craig was nothing compared to the flames spreading out under the masked man’s feet. 

“Watch out,” Kyle whispered, a broken sound in his throat. 

Super Craig moved, fist raised in the air, mouth opening in a silent cry. 

“ _WATCH OUT!_ ” Kyle shouted, blinking away the shades of blue from his eyes. Mysterion’s fingers suddenly found his shoulder again. 

Super Craig charged and the man did exactly the same, a black reflection of the superhero. But whereas the good was aiming at the man’s face, the bad had his mind set on the other’s heart.

The sound of knuckles against sternum was deafening, explosive. 

Super Craig’s eyes grew incredibly wide. His chest split in two. The force sent the noirette flying into the house behind them, debris bursting in the air the moment his back hit the wall. A horrifying sight. Red fireworks. 

Wonder Tweek cried, slapping his hands over his ears as if to block out the sounds of the fight. Grinding his teeth, he fell onto his knees with a loud crack. 

“Craig!” 

Wonder Tweek pushed himself onto his feet, ready to rush to his companion’s side, but a hand on his shoulder held him back. The crackling sound of lighting, soon followed by thunder, engulfed the two men, a blast of white in Kyle’s vision. 

“We have to help them!” Kyle grabbed Mysterion’s arms and pulled, but the vigilante was frozen to the spot, his eyes fixed on the events happening right in front of his nose. “Mysterion!” he shouted before his voice was muffled by Tweek’s loud, desperate cry. 

“Mysterion!” Kyle tried again. With a jolt, Kyle raised a hand to his cheek and felt them wet. Balls of light erupted from Wonder Tweek’s hands. Eyes white, his lips contorted into a pained frown. 

“Run, Kyle!” Mysterion shouted in his ears. The whole world shook. The man kept a firm grip on Tweek’s arm, unfazed by the lighting running up and down Tweek’s body. 

“I’m not going anywhere-!” 

The lighting shifted. 

It was now the man’s propriety. It moved and cracked, yielding to the silent orders of a new master. Tweek was struck by his own lighting. Enormous quantities of energy rushed through his body, so strong Kyle swore he could see Tweek’s skeleton in the darkness. He knew it was an optical illusion but logic held no place in his heart in that moment. 

Then, as soon as it started, the fight was over. Wonder Tweek’s lifeless body dropped to the ground, hard. 

“Fuck.” Mysterion’s voice lost all of its roughness. For a fleeting second, he sounded terribly young. Kyle could swear he had heard that voice somewhere already, but he couldn’t remember how and when. Attention focused on the man in front of them, Kyle couldn’t think of anything else. Memories blurred, his heart threatened to burst at any moment. Blood pumping in his ears. Run. 

“We need to run!” Mysterion shouted, and if Mysterion was scared, Kyle should be too, but he couldn’t think. Run. Run. Run. He couldn’t move. The man snapped his head towards them. 

They were next. 

Swearing loudly, Mysterion pushed Kyle aside and moved in front of him, putting himself between Kyle and the attacker. The man walked over to them calmly, his eyes flashing white, bright against the darkness of his mask. Dressed in black from head to toe, he was slight and sinuous like a panther. 

Mysterion bent his knees, preparing himself for the imminent attack. The man raised his hand like Kyle saw Wonder Tweek do mere minutes before. A lump in his throat prevented him from shouting a warning but even if he could, it was already late. 

Cold air caressed his cheeks. 

Mysterion’s cape flapped violently. 

A blast of lighting, square in the chest. The stench of burned flesh filled Kyle’s nostrils and his alarmed gaze fixed on the hole that tore Mysterion’s back apart. The blood spilled all over the asphalt, dying the road in red before Mysterion’s body covered the mess. 

Inadvertently, Kyle took a step backwards, trying to put as much as distance between Mysterion’s body and himself. If he hadn’t been there, Kyle would have been the one torn apart by lighting. Wonder Tweek’s lighting, he reminded himself. How was that even possible? Wonder Tweek was dead. Super Craig was probably dead. Mysterion was obviously dead. 

And Kyle was next. 

Tearing his gaze away from Mysterion’s bloodied face, Kyle stared right into his attacker’s white eyes. He saw police sirens flashing. A strand of long, blond hair. A bright yellow aura. He couldn’t make anything of it. He couldn’t concentrate. He was too scared. Damn it. 

“Don’t get any closer!” Kyle shouted, surprised by the venom in his own voice. For a moment, the man hesitated. “Put your arms where I can see them!” he ordered, patting his jacket in search of his badge. What an idiot. Was he really going to play bad cop right now? Kyle was going to die. His police rank was worth shit. 

The man stepped forwards. 

“I said don’t move!” Kyle shouted, going for his gun holster. Anger blurred his vision. Mysterion was dead. Super Craig. Wonder Tweek. The man played with his emotions. He took a step forwards, hesitated, drew back. 

“Raise your hands up!” 

And the man did, only not in the way Kyle wanted. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move!” Kyle ordered between gritted teeth. He heard a chuckle, soon followed by a surprised yelp. Kyle kept his eyes on him, pinning him down with just a stare. Anger. All he could feel was anger. 

The man struggled against invisible restrains, like a puppet enclosed in a glass box. Kyle couldn’t wrap his head around it, but he was glad the man couldn’t move. He reached for his gun but the moment he shifted his attention elsewhere, the man managed to put one leg in front of the other. 

The tell-tale sound of police sirens suddenly echoed in the dark alley. The police was going to get there at any moment, probably alerted by some scared witness. A loud pop that reminded Kyle of bones clashing against each other deflected the detective’s attention from the masked man. 

The distraction was all the murderer needed. When the opportunity presented itself, the man turned on his heels and fled. 

Armed with determination and a new purpose in life, Kyle pointed the gun at him. “You’re under arrest!” Kyle declared. He fired a warning shot but all he did was bore a new hole in the already destroyed wall on his right. 

The man vanished in the darkness. 

“The bastard.” 

The pained whisper made Kyle jump back in surprise. Mysterion groaned loudly, pushing himself up and off the ground. 

There was a hole in his black suit, right where the blast of energy hit him, but the skin underneath was intact, unscarred like that of a baby. 

“What the hell,” Kyle muttered. Mysterion snapped his head towards him and clicked his tongue in annoyance when he heard the screech of tires against the asphalt. 

“Let’s get out of here!” Mysterion ordered. He grabbed Kyle’s arm and dragged him away. The detective was too stunned to put up a fight. 

When the police officers finally walked into the dark alley, Mysterion and Kyle were long gone. 

**** 

“How the fuck are you still alive?!” Kyle exclaimed as soon as they were out of earshot. Mysterion pushed him inside an empty warehouse and checked around for possible witnesses before giving Kyle his undivided attention. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

Nose scrunching up, Kyle put his hands on his hips. 

“You were dead.” Kyle said. “I saw you being torn up by lighting! What the hell!” 

Even if the mask covered part of his face, Mysterion’s surprise was clear from his frown. 

“You remember?” 

“What kind of question is that?” Kyle asked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. 

“People never do, that’s all.” Mysterion gave the redhead a look-over, and Kyle raised his chin in defiance. They stared each other down for a long, silent moment until Mysterion’s next words sent Kyle stumbling back in shock. 

“What are you?” 

“What-?” 

Letting out a deep sigh, Mysterion repeated his question. “What are you?” 

For being a dark vigilante, his voice turned uncharacteristically soft when he spoke to Kyle. Perhaps it was emotional exhaustion after that fight, perhaps it was something else. Either way Kyle had no idea what Mysterion was like in reality. It was the first time they talked for real. 

Sensing Mysterion’s eyes on him, Kyle fidgeted in his spot. 

“The question is, what are you?” Kyle snapped, whipping around to face the other head on. Mysterion watched him keenly, mouth tightly shut, and Kyle snorted in fake amusement. 

“I’m not in the mood for these silly games,” Kyle said, shaking his head. He walked around Mysterion to get out of that damned warehouse when he suddenly felt a hand on his wrist. 

“I’m not human, if that’s what you want to hear.” Mysterion’s angry voice took Kyle completely aback. He wondered if Mysterion was trying to intimidate him, but little did he know that it had the complete opposite effect. 

“Fuck off,” Kyle said, pulling his wrist free from Mysterion’s grasp. “I know you are not human, god damn it. I was there when that blast of light passed right through you and look at you! As good as new!” he exclaimed, the sarcasm thick on his tongue. 

Mysterion’s frown deepened. “You have no right to be angry at me, Broflovski,” he retorted. “You would have died if it weren’t for me.” 

With that said, Mysterion turned on his heels and walked out. 

**** 

Kyle stared at the list, head in his hands. There were two names that caught his attention, two superheroes who, after a long career fighting for good, decided to enjoy a normal life together and registered with the police as mutants. Kyle’s hand shook when he picked up a black pen and crossed the two names out. 

Guilt was eating away at him. 

If only he had done something for them, stepped in the fight or something just as heroic. Instead, he had watched from the stands, unable to do anything than wasn’t trying to hush his frantic heart. What a coward. 

Wonder Tweek, or Tweek Tweak, had been the strongest superhero their city had the pleasure of having. An elementalist, scientists said. A dangerous individual. A monster. 

Oh, but what did they know. Kyle pushed the list away and sighed when the papers fluttered off his desk. Those so-called scientists had no idea, they were not there to witness Wonder Tweek’s pain – human pain. They were not there when he screamed in agony as Super Craig, his partner, his soulmate, was thrown right into a wall with incredible force. They didn’t smell the stench of burning flesh - human flesh. Kyle had always resented mutants for being what they were. But he was one of them. They died like everybody else. 

Wonder Tweek was the strongest, and yet he dropped at this stranger’s feet like a sack of potatoes. 

A knocking at the door shook Kyle out of his thoughts. Raising his eyes towards his visitor, Kyle was surprised to see Stan there, newspaper rolled up under his arm. 

“I thought you might want to read this,” Stan said sheepishly, unfolding the newspaper to a certain page. Kyle’s eyes scanned through Bebe Stevens’ latest article and his stomach twisted unpleasantly when he noticed the two black and white pictures just under the title. Super Craig, arms spread out as if nailed to a cross, chin on his torn chest, eyes blissfully closed. Wonder Tweek, an unrecognizable body, a burned ‘W’ across his chest, mouth open in a silent cry. 

The chair before Kyle’s desk creaked loudly under Stan’s weight, and Kyle shifted his gaze from the newspaper to his friend. 

“The Chief said you were a witness.” 

Kyle hummed. Stan’s emotions were like a slap to the face, overwhelming like a tsunami. The noirette stood with the newspaper in his hands, facing Wendy with a questioning arch of his eyebrows. Wendy said something. Stan rushed to Kyle’s office. 

“I’m fine,” Kyle reassured him, and Stan let out a frustrated snort. 

“Are you going to play hero again, Kyle?” Stan asked, forehead wrinkled in anger. “Because it’s obvious you are not fine, for God’s sake.” 

Chief Testaburger had used the same exact words when Kyle communicated the events of the previous night. He told her their murderer was not Mysterion, trying hard to keep his voice steady as he said his name. Wendy believed him. What she couldn’t wrap her head around was the fact Kyle decided to flee the scene as soon as the police got there. Kyle wasn’t ready with an answer. 

“Fine, be like that.” Annoyed by Kyle’s prolonged silence, Stan made a move to stand up. 

“I need to tell you something,” Kyle said, shooting a quick glance at the closed door. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose but sat back down. “Don’t be angry at me.” 

That caught Stan’s attention. 

“Why would I be angry?” 

The frown on Kyle’s face made all Stan’s alarm bells ring. 

“Kyle?” 

“There is a reason why I’m able to solve every case I’m assigned to,” Kyle said, Mysterion’s cape flashing behind his eyelids. “It might even be considered as cheating.” 

Stan kept silent, but Kyle could feel his friend’s suspicion under his skin. A prickling sensation. A fight-or-flight response of sorts. Up until the previous night’s murders, Kyle had always been a fighter. 

“I’m a psychic, Stan.” There. Kyle spilled the beans. Contrary to popular belief, it did not lift a weight from his chest. “I can read people’s minds. I see their memories in my head as if they were my own.” 

Eyebrows knitted, Stan slightly shook his head. 

“What am I thinking of right now?” Stan asked. It was obvious he thought Kyle was making the whole thing up, and Kyle groaned loudly, running a hand through his red locks in frustration. 

“That I’m cuckoo,” Kyle said. “Now you’re thinking about that chocolate cake you had for breakfast. Seriously, Stan, this is not a joke!” he exclaimed, getting angrier by the minute. 

“Jesus Christ!” Stan shot up from his chair. He looked behind his shoulder to the closed door before fixing his gaze on Kyle’s face. “Jesus,” he repeated. 

“Stan-!” 

“I mean, I’ve always known you were special,” Stan said, “but this. Man!” 

Kyle sighed and buried his head in his hands. Stan’s bark of laughter made Kyle’s heart flip in his chest. 

“I feel so stupid right now,” Stan said when Kyle’s curious gaze found his. “I was so jealous of you, but you are on a whole other level. Now I get why you got to the top so fast.” 

“You’re not scared of me?” Kyle asked, standing up. 

“Why would I be?” Stan asked, checking Kyle out as if the redhead had finally lost his mind. “You are my best friend. Although I wished you told me sooner, it would have spared us both a lot of trouble.” 

Relief washed over Kyle, and he sank back down in his seat. Stan mimicked him, leaning over the table to get closer to Kyle’s personal space. 

“Have you always known you were a mutant?” Stan asked in a whisper. 

“I took my powers for granted until we had that special class about mutants in middle school,” Kyle replied. Stan nodded in understanding before puzzlement flashed across his face. 

“Is that why you never said anything?” Stan asked, searching Kyle’s eyes for some kind of clue. “Mr. Garrison talked a lot of bullshit back then. I don’t believe mutants are as dangerous as they depict them.” 

“They are,” Kyle said, pointing at the pictures in the newspaper. Stan followed his finger and stared at Super Craig’s face for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Stan,” Kyle said, getting his friend’s attention back. “I could have died yesterday.” 

All of Stan’s curiosity drained off his face, only to be replaced by sheer fear. 

“Did you manage to survive because of your powers?” Stan asked, voice broken with emotion. A choking sound left his lips when Kyle shook his head. 

“My powers are worth shit in situations like this,” Kyle said, boiling with anger. “If it hadn’t been for Mysterion, I would have met Wonder Tweek’s fate.” 

Stan’s gaze immediately found Wonder Tweek’s picture and his hand instinctively searched for Kyle’s. 

“I didn’t even thank him,” Kyle whispered. “I just lashed out at him.” 

Stan’s chuckle took Kyle by surprise. 

“Of course you did,” Stan said, offering a big, reassuring smile. Kyle’s arched eyebrows just made Stan laugh harder. “Kyle, you _hate_ being rescued. If our lives were a DC comic, you would have hated being the Lois Lane of our universe.” 

“Lois Lane was no psychic,” Kyle retorted. Stan rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 

“That’s not my point and you know it.” 

Kyle humph-ed. 

“You should thank him the next time you see him,” Stan said. “For me,” he added after a moment of hesitation. A lump formed in Kyle’s throat, making it difficult to speak. 

“I’ve been a shitty friend,” Kyle said. 

“No, that was me, dude,” Stan retorted. “I should have realized something was bothering you all these years.” 

“I didn’t want to be a mutant,” Kyle said, locking eyes with Stan. 

“I think it’s awesome,” Stan said instead. “But I understand why you kept it a secret. Don’t worry. My lips are sealed.” 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Kyle smiled. “Thanks.” 

“So,” Stan began, tapping his fingers on the desk. “How does it work? Do you constantly hear voices in your head or do you have like, an on and off switch?” 

“It’s not that simple,” Kyle replied. “I need to concentrate and look at you straight in the eyes.” 

“Does it work on everybody?” 

Kyle thought back to his encounter with Mysterion, to the moment he managed to glance into sky blue eyes and saw nothing but wonder. 

Shaking his head, Kyle decided to describe the previous night’s events instead. The words flew out of his mouth, fast as lighting. There was a sense of finality as he spoke, describing Super Craig’s and Wonder Tweek’s fight as if he were commenting on an overrated movie. He wanted to be objective, but it was an impossible task. It hurt to admit he had been unable to do anything. Kyle wore his emotions on his sleeve, and it showed in the way his whole body started shaking when he recalled Mysterion standing between him and the masked man. 

His tale was suddenly interrupted by the loud ringing of his cellphone. Kyle reached out for it, ignoring Stan’s arched eyebrows. A smile graced his lips when Kenny McCormick’s name flashed on the display. Sensing that something was up, Stan slowly stood up from his chair. 

“We’ll talk later,” Stan mouthed the moment Kyle raised the phone to his ear. He was out before Kyle could stop him. 

“Hey,” Kenny’s voice was as cheerful as ever, a soothing balm after the emotional trainwreck Kyle was going through. “You busy?” 

“No… not at all…” Kyle answered, eyeing Stan’s empty chair warily. Why did Stan leave all of a sudden? 

“You sound stressed,” Kenny said, claiming Kyle’s attention back. 

“I didn’t sleep much last night.” 

“Oh, _rough_ night?” Kenny asked and Kyle could almost picture his smugness. Kyle snorted. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“Cool, because I want to be there when you do have one.” 

Kyle massaged his eyes with his fingers, feeling his shoulders shake with laughter. Stunned, Kenny remained silent on the other side of the line. Kyle was obviously losing his mind. 

“You okay, dude?” Kenny asked when Kyle’s laughter finally subsided. “You’re incredibly cute when you laugh, but it wasn’t that funny.” 

“It’s not that…” Kyle said. “Wait. Did you just called me-!” 

“I take that back,” Kenny promptly cut him off. “You’re not cute. You’re gorgeous.” 

“If only you could see the state I’m in,” Kyle said, ruffling his already messy hair up. 

“Give me the chance to,” Kenny said, not missing a beat. “What about tonight? Movie and McDonalds?” 

“Sounds great.” Honestly, Kyle didn’t mean to sound so smitten. 

“Let’s say at seven?” 

“Yes,” Kyle agreed. “In front of the movie theater?”

“Perfect.” Kyle swore he could hear Kenny’s smile. 

****

Kyle was searching in his wardrobe for something casual when he felt a cold breeze against the back of his neck. He turned around in alarm and reached for his belt, where he usually kept his gun. Unimpressed, Mysterion watched him as Kyle’s fingers closed around air. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Kyle asked. “This is break and entering. You are-!” 

“We need to talk,” Mysterion declared, delicately closing Kyle’s window behind him. Kyle’s eyes followed as Mysterion took a step closer to him. 

“What about?” Kyle asked, on the defensive. 

“Last night’s murders,” Mysterion said, straight to the point. “You saw him, Broflovski. That was a very dangerous individual, and you somehow managed to stop him.” 

Clicking his tongue in irritation, Kyle said: “I didn’t do anything.” 

“Of course you did.” 

Mysterion’s self assurance got on Kyle’s nerves. 

“You don’t even know what I can do.” 

“Because you do,” Mysterion said calmly, driving Kyle up the wall. He inhaled deeply and motioned Mysterion to sit at his desk. 

Mysterion didn’t move. 

“I’m just a psychic,” Kyle finally said. “And a good detective. There’s not a lot I can do against guys like that.” He didn’t need to clarify; Mysterion understood. 

“A psychic, you say?” Mysterion sounded sincerely impressed, and Kyle raised his eyes, letting his gaze wander over the other’s masked face. Nothing. 

“It doesn’t work on everyone,” Kyle confessed, catching Mysterion off-guard. 

“What do you do?” Mysterion asked, but Kyle was fed up with being interrogated. 

“Why don’t you start first?” Kyle snapped. “Will you please explain how you got out of that mess alive?” 

Mysterion took his sweet time with his answer. He looked around, apparently checking out Kyle’s bedroom, before he finally set his gaze on its owner. 

“I can’t die.” 

“Healing powers? Resurrection powers?” Kyle prodded. 

“Something like that.” Mysterion’s curt answers were anything but satisfactory. It was annoying, not being able to read the other’s mind. It would have been much easier if he didn’t have to tear every word from the other’s mouth. 

“You read people’s minds?” Mysterion asked. 

“Something like that,” Kyle retorted. The smirk on Mysterion’s face was a pleasant surprise. 

“You’re in danger, you know that, right?” Mysterion asked, breaking the silence that had formed between them. “You are a witness.” 

“And you’re not?” At Mysterion’s sharp intake of breath, Kyle snorted. “We are both in danger. This guy has killed four mutants in a very short period of time. That’s enough to place him in the serial killer category.” 

Under Mysterion’s keen eyes, Kyle strutted towards his desk and opened one of the drawers, taking the infamous list out. 

“He’s after mutants,” Kyle explained, handing Mysterion the list. His gaze definitely didn’t linger on the crossed out names. Concentrating his attention on the vigilante’s gloved hand instead, Kyle continued: “He’s a mutant too. I saw his aura. It turned bright yellow just before he struck Super Craig, and-!” 

“He’s a copycat,” Mysterion cut him off. Holding back a groan for being so abruptly interrupted, Kyle frowned at Mysterion’s words. Sky blue eyes bore into his soul and Kyle held his chin up, holding the other’s stare meaningfully. 

The gears in Kyle’s mind suddenly jolted into overdrive. Yes, of course. The killer used Super Craig’s strength to send him flying into the wall and then proceeded to use Wonder Tweek’s power to electrocute his next victim. But how-! 

“He touched them both,” Kyle said, answering his own question. Mysterion tilted his head. “The killer touched a patch of naked skin before he took on their powers. That’s how he killed them. That’s how his powers work.” 

Mysterion stared at him, long and scrutinizing, but Kyle was too caught up in his own thoughts to pay him any attention. As if Mysterion wasn’t there, Kyle started pacing around the room, uncaring of his unwanted visitor’s eyes following his every step. 

“The question is, does he just _copy_ the power? Or do they become a part of who he is? I mean, how long can he keep it up? How does a copycat even _work_?” 

“Perhaps he sucks them up,” Mysterion said, voice low as if he was trying not to hinder Kyle’s thought process. The redhead halted in his pacing long enough to shot him a questioning look. “Perhaps he completely drains his victims. Like a leech.” 

Kyle considered it for a moment. 

“No, that’s not it.” he shook his head. “I had the chance to look at Super Craig’s hands before the killer punched him in the chest. He still had his powers.” 

“Would you win if you fought against yourself?” Mysterion’s question took Kyle completely aback. As much as he wanted to come up with a witty answer, nothing came to mind. 

Finally, Kyle spoke again: “The killer was stronger than that. He didn’t just use Super Craig’s strength or Wonder Tweek’s lighting. There was something more. His own powers fused with something else. Maybe…” The realization sent shivers running down Kyle’s spine. “He doesn’t just copy his victims’ powers, he assimilates them.” 

“If he manages to kill enough mutants, he’s going to become invincible.” 

Kyle looked up at Mysterion. Nothing hinted at the vigilante’s real emotions. No memory flashed behind his eyelids. Mysterion was a whole world away from Kyle, despite being in the same room as him. Lethal, dark and... strangely intriguing. 

“Your powers,” Kyle blurted. Mysterion kept silent, and Kyle groaned in frustration. “Your powers!” he exclaimed, emphasizing his words with his hands. “You must never come in contact with the killer, you hear me?” 

Clearly, Kyle’s authoritarian voice rubbed Mysterion the wrong way. Lips tugged downwards in irritation, he stood taller as if to gain some inches over Kyle. The detective, however, was not intimidated in the least. 

“The killer will inevitably become invincible if he touches _you_ ,” Kyle exclaimed, getting right into Mysterion’s personal space in two strides. “Whatever we’ll do to stop this guy will be useless if he can’t die.” 

Mysterion’s ego deflected at that slightly. For a single moment, he looked sincerely concerned for his own well-being, but Kyle doubted self-reservation was at the focus of the other’s thoughts. Kyle could feel the vigilante’s breath on his skin. They were standing too close, but Kyle wasn’t going to back down from the unspoken challenge anytime soon. 

Finally, Mysterion let out a sigh of defeat. Under Kyle’s shocked stare, he turned on his heels and walked towards the window. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” Kyle asked, irritated by the vigilante’s antics. Mysterion didn’t dignify him with a look as he effortlessly climbed through the window. “Hey!” 

“I’ve got a date,” Mysterion explained before he disappeared from Kyle’s sight. 

“What the hell.” 

Glancing at his wrist watch, Kyle let out a whimper. It was already 18:50. He needed to hurry if he didn’t want to keep Kenny waiting. 

Twenty minutes later, Kyle was running down the street to the movie theater. As soon he arrived, however, he realized that Kenny was nowhere to be seen. Dejected, Kyle scanned the queue in front of the ticket booth, but Kenny wasn’t there either. 

Was it possible that Kenny got fed up of waiting and left already? 

Feeling thirsty, he decided to swing by the closest store to buy something to drink. When he returned to the ticket booth, he found Kenny bent over, his hands on his knees, panting. 

“Kenny!” Kyle greeted him. At the sound his name, Kenny looked up and flashed him a bright smile. Kyle took a sip of his juice, and Kenny shifted his gaze to the bottle. 

“I was thirsty,” Kyle said, although he couldn’t understand why he felt the need to explain. “It’s juice. You want?” 

“Naked juice?” Kenny asked, a crinkle of amusement in his sky blue eyes. It took Kyle a moment to understand what Kenny was saying. 

“It’s just the brand.” Kenny’s smile just grew wider. “God damn it, Kenny.” 

“You like naked things?” Kenny asked, but Kyle just rolled his eyes. His eyebrows twitched when Kenny chuckled. “I’m just messing with you. Sorry I’m late, by the way. I got held up.” 

“Me too, actually,” Kyle muttered under his breath. Puzzlement flashed across Kenny’s face, and Kyle gave a nonchalant shrug. He mentally debated whether he should talk about work or not. Kenny would not be interested in his rants, would he? Suddenly, he realized that he didn’t want to scare Kenny off, that he cared a big deal about him and the opinion the blond had of him. Beyond that, was being a detective compatible with being a mutant? For better or worse, Kyle was both. How much should he keep a secret? Would Kenny accept him for who he was? And if not, why did Kyle care? They-! 

“You’re overthinking this,” Kenny said, surprising Kyle with a big, soft smile. “You always do.” 

“I just had a long day,” Kyle said. “I have a lot on my mind.” 

“Does this have something to do with your murder case?” Kenny asked, locking eyes with him. 

“Mostly yes.” Kyle rubbed his hands together. He felt cold, as if he were the last man in a frozen world. Why did solitude taste like ice? The moment Kenny took a step closer, however, Kyle’s heart melted. 

“I wish I could help you,” Kenny said and he sounded sincere, determined even. The tone of his voice gave Kyle’s guts a pleasant twist. 

“There is something you could help me with,” Kyle said, an idea popping into his head. “You’re great at advice, right?” 

“I sure am,” Kenny said, puffing his chest out. The smile that formed on Kyle’s lips at that was totally unintentional. 

“Okay, this might sound weird, but-!” Kyle’s words flew out of his mouth. He hadn’t intended to spill the beans to Kenny, but here he was. He told the blond barista about the murders and how Mysterion saved his life, keeping any gruesome details and Kyle’s true nature to himself. Kenny was all ears and kept his half-lidded gaze on him the whole time. 

When Kyle finally stopped talking to catch his breath, Kenny spoke: 

“You want to thank Mysterion for what he did?” 

“Basically yes,” Kyle said, suddenly feeling stupid. “The guy is an asshole, Kenny. How can I thank him without him gloating over it?” 

Kenny snorted. 

“Why would he gloat?” he asked, amused. 

“You don’t know him,” Kyle said. “Trust me on this. He’s a douchebag.” 

Kenny tapped a finger against his bottom lip, arching an eyebrow when he noticed Kyle’s gaze shift to it. 

“I think Mysterion just needs a hug,” Kenny said, taking Kyle by surprise. 

“A hug?” Kyle asked, sceptical. “Seriously?” 

Kenny shrugged. “Everybody needs a hug sometimes.” 

“I can’t go and hug Mysterion!” Kyle exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “It would look weird.” 

“You’re right,” Kenny said with a chuckle. “Plus, it would make me incredibly jealous.” 

Kyle’s heart flipped in his chest at the confession. Unaware of the range of emotions flashing across Kyle’s face, Kenny continued: 

“Just thank him, Kyle, he won’t gloat. Mysterion is not that kind of guy. I would have expected something like that from the Coon, but not Mysterion. Just tell him.” 

“I-!” Kyle started, ready to retort, but the words died in his throat when Kenny reached for his hand and gave his fingers a light squeeze. 

“He’s human,” Kenny said. “Just remember that underneath that bloody suit, he’s naked. Just like you and I. Just like your juice.” 

“It’s just a brand!” Kyle exclaimed, shooting a murderous look at the bottle in his hands. Kenny smirked. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Unfortunately, Kyle knew. Eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers, he wondered if the weather had somehow grown warmer in the brief span of half an hour. It _felt_ nice. Kenny felt nice. 

“Shall we go?” Kenny asked, nodding towards the ticket booth. Kyle nodded in agreement, resisting to the urge to pull Kenny close and kiss him. His lips sure looked alluring enough. 

Nevertheless, all Kyle could utter in that moment was: “Of course.” 

**** 

When Kyle opened the door to his apartment on Saturday morning, the last thing he expected was Henrietta Biggle, the coroner, to look up at him with an unimpressed look. 

“Errr… good morning?” Kyle shot a glance at his wrist watch. It wasn’t even 8 am. Dark violet lips wrapped around the filter of a cigarette, Henrietta took a drag and blew the smoke right in Kyle’s face. 

“‘Morning, dude.”

Stan’s face slowly appeared in the cloud of smoke. Quite the surreal sight for this time of the day. 

“Is something the matter?” Kyle asked, letting out a dry cough. He stepped back to let them in, and Stan stepped inside mumbling a sheepish ‘thanks’. 

“Don’t get angry,” Stan pleaded, coming to a stop right in the middle of the living room. Contrary to the noirette, Henrietta was the picture of complacence. She placed the cigarette between her lips and checked Kyle’s apartment out, as if she were trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. 

Kyle doubted his bare, almost aseptic living room had anything to offer. Even though he had been living in this apartment for four years, everything looked brand new, every piece of furniture barely touched by its owner. The kitchen, on the other hand, was a mess. Kyle has been too busy to throw out the empty Chinese takeout boxes, or wash the coffee stained mugs in the sink. If he had known Henrietta was going to nose around the house, Kyle would have hidden his dirty laundry under the bed at least. 

Suddenly remembering Stan’s presence in the room, Kyle shifted his eyes on him. 

“Got coffee?” Henrietta asked, capturing both of their attention. “It’s too early in the morning to deal with this shit. We have a long conversation ahead of us and I’m not doing this without coffee.” 

Kyle and Stan shared a look as Henrietta made herself comfortable on the couch. The springs groaned under her weight and she mocked them by taking another drag of her cigarette. 

“What kind of conversation?” Kyle asked, his nose scrunching up at being bossed around. By the coroner no less. 

“I thought Henrietta could help you out,” Stan explained, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You know… with stuff?” 

“What stuff?” Kyle asked, surprised. Henrietta rolled her eyes to the ceiling. 

“For being a psychic, you sure are dense,” she said, her eyes boring into him uncomfortably. “I guess you don’t know how to use your powers properly, am I right?” 

“You told her? Dude!” Kyle cried, jaw clenched, snapping his head towards Stan. 

“I already knew,” Henrietta said. “ _Now_ , may I have some damn coffee?” she asked with obviously fake politeness. 

The sarcasm was strong with this one, Kyle thought. He was ready to put her back in her place when Stan chimed in. 

“I’ll make some,” he said. “You two… talk or whatever.” 

That said, Stan quickly disappeared in the kitchen. 

Kyle groaned. Glancing at Henrietta warily, he slowly sat down in the armchair across from her - a gift from his mom. 

“So what do you do?” he asked. 

“The usual,” Henrietta said, flicking her wrist. 

“You read minds?” Kyle asked, pulse spiking in annoyance when Henrietta rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, Kyle, I read minds,” Henrietta said. “I can even extract memories from the dead.” 

Kyle whistled in amazement. “I can’t do that.” 

“I know,” Henrietta said with a smirk. “Not every psychic is the same. What do _you_ do?” 

“I concentrate on the living,” Kyle replied, surprised when a jovial laugh escaped Henrietta’s throat. 

“That’s such a conformist thing to do,” she said. “What else?” 

“I can see people’s memories. Snippets of them, at least,” Kyle said, lowering his gaze to his hands, deep in thought. “I guess I can spot auras too.” 

“Boring. What else?” 

“That’s all.” 

Henrietta heaved a sigh and put out her cigarette on the floor. Strangely enough, Kyle didn’t mind the least. 

“I’m sure that’s not all there is to it,” Henrietta said, staring him straight in the eyes. Kyle felt claws scratching at the back of his skull. A weird feeling, as if his mind was a dark cellar and Henrietta was walking around with a flashlight. 

“You stopped the killer,” Henrietta declared after a long moment of silence. Kyle knitted his eyebrows in question when the coroner smirked. “That’s impressive.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Kyle said, suddenly defensive. 

“Oh, you did,” Henrietta said. Kyle recalled that night, but all he could see was Mysterion stepping between him and the killer. “No, sweetheart, I’m not talking about your lover,” Henrietta said, ignoring the blush that crawled up his neck at that. “Forget about Mysterion and concentrate on _him_.” 

Letting out an embarrassed cough, Kyle did. 

“I told him not to move,” he said, understanding hitting him square in the chest. Henrietta nodded, pleased. 

“Apparently, you can convince people to do as you please,” she said. “It’s another type of mind-reading, close to telekinesis.” 

Kyle hummed in understanding, although he couldn’t make heads or tails of Henrietta’s words. Sighing, she patted her tights in search of her cigarette box. 

“Kyle, how did you feel when the killer attacked you?” 

He didn’t need to think much to answer that. 

“Angry as fuck.” 

“Why?” 

Speechless, Kyle studied his nails. 

“Why?” she prodded. 

“Mysterion died.” The shaky breath that escaped him was a complete surprise. “He died and I did nothing to prevent it.” 

Henrietta took a cigarette out of the box, placing it between her lips elegantly. Kyle averted his gaze, suddenly aware of how people felt after he’d gone snooping in their minds. He felt drained, pathetic, a sorry excuse of a man. He was supposed to be one of the greatest detectives in his county, but all he was was a psychic who couldn’t even use his powers right. 

“Don’t be hard on yourself,” Henrietta reproached. “You just need a little bit of practice. Here, let me show you something you can effortlessly do,” she said, stretching her arm towards him. Kyle eyed her gloved hand warily before shifting his gaze towards her annoyed expression. 

“Just concentrate as you always do,” Henrietta said. “But touch my arm while you’re at it. It’s easier with skin-to-skin contact.” 

Shaking slightly, Kyle wrapped his fingers around Henrietta’s elbow. 

“Concentrate!” she ordered, and Kyle looked her straight in the eyes with determination. Nothing happened at first. 

Then, suddenly, a burst of blue light engulfed his vision. He saw himself through Henrietta’s eyes, a blurred picture at first, becoming sharper the longer he concentrated. It was weird to look at himself like that. His reflection was worthy of a horror movie. Eyes rolled back, lips slightly parted, his hand clutching onto Henrietta for dear life. The sight disturbed him. Mentally, he asked Henrietta to move, to do anything that could show him this was not real. 

_Do something_ , he pleaded. _Anything_. 

Through Henrietta’s eyes, Kyle saw her right hand move against her will. This was very real. She pinched the cigarette between two fingers and flicked it away. This was real! Kyle let go of Henrietta’s elbow as if burned and stared at the fallen cigarette on the floor with eyes as wide as saucers. His throat ached, dry and itchy, as if he had been screaming for hours. 

“What a waste,” Henrietta said, following his gaze. 

“How?” 

“I had to follow your orders,” she said. Her voice had a sort of detached tone to it, but Kyle sensed she was proud of him. The unlit cigarette lay on the floor between the couch and Kyle’s armchair. Neither of them made a move to pick it up. 

For the first time since they started working together, Kyle saw another side of Henrietta. A younger version of herself. 

“You need to practice,” she said, raising her gaze at him. “But there’s potential in you. I can feel it in my bones.” 

Knitting his eyebrows together, Kyle was too stunned to move. He coughed lightly to relieve his aching throat, but made it worse instead. He needed water, gallons of it. Or maybe something alcoholic. Stan was still hiding in the kitchen and Kyle was not in the mood to call him back. 

“Do you have any questions?” Henrietta asked, his self-proclaimed mentor. She shifted in her seat, a quick glance towards the door betraying her eagerness to leave.

“I do.” 

Henrietta arched an eyebrow. Kyle knew all she needed to do was look at him in the eyes to see what was wrong, but it was much easier if he just said it out-loud. 

“My powers don’t work on everybody,” he said. Judging from Henrietta’s expressionless face, Kyle realized that she was already aware of this. How much had she seen? Which memory could he still call his? 

“Do you know why?” Kyle asked. So many questions ran through his head, so many that he couldn’t think anymore. Many didn’t even make sense. A few could be even considered as unimportant. But this. 

“You should be able to read everybody’s mind,” Henrietta said, unaware of the disappointment that dropped like a heavy stone in Kyle’s stomach. “But it can happen,” she declared after a long moment of silence. The seconds ticked by loudly on Kyle’s wrist watch. 

“There are some people who are so lonely,” she began, her voice but a whisper, “that they build strong emotional walls around their hearts to ignore the pain.” 

“I see…” Kyle murmured, although he couldn’t see at all. It wasn’t possible. Kenny looked so happy, so cheerful. He was surrounded by people, he had a sister that he loved dearly, Kyle knew there was a brother too. Kenny didn’t look like a loner. And Mysterion. Mysterion was proud to be on his own. He worked solo, that’s what he always said. He didn’t need anyone else but himself. How--! 

“The truth is, Kyle,” Henrietta said, slowly getting to her feet, “I couldn’t read your mind either at first.” 

With a jolt, Kyle looked up at her. She patted the front of her dress in response, taking her cigarette box back out. 

“But then, all of a sudden, you were an open book,” Henrietta added, raising the cigarette to her lips. “You should thank Mysterion for me. A shake of the hand is enough.” 

Her words sent his heart into overdrive. Kyle shot up from his seat, his mouth moving around silent words. Henrietta puffed some smoke through her nose before turning her head towards the kitchen. 

“Forget the coffee, officer!” she exclaimed, waddling across the living room towards the door. “I’m outta here.” 

Too stunned to move, Kyle watched her stroll out of his apartment. Stan was suddenly by his side, a mug in his hands. 

If Kyle’s nose wasn’t mistaken, it wasn’t coffee. 

**** 

There was only one way to catch the killer, and that meant the detective and Mysterion needed to work together. The tricky part was convincing Mysterion _without_ using his powers. The last thing Kyle wanted was to give the vigilante another reason to hate him. 

The registered mutant list was quite short, all things considered. Crossing out deceased superheroes and all citizens living outside of town, Kyle narrowed the names of possible victims down to ten. If the killer had managed to get a copy of this very same list, he would probably try his luck with them before going on a blind search for unregistered mutants. Everyone knew Mysterion, of course, but he was a tough nut to crack _and_ to track down, so Kyle didn’t worry about him much. 

All they needed to do was closely follow the ten registered mutants on the list, and Kyle already knew which guy was going to be stalked first. 

Driving around the city at an ungodly hour of the night, Kyle hoped to spot Mysterion’s black cape floating above a lamppost, like an overgrown smug owl. When nothing of the sort happened, Kyle decided to resort to his powers. 

Eyes fluttering closed, Kyle waited for the world to be dyed in blue. Perfectly common auras danced across his vision, men and women walking in the streets, their hearts beating fast in their chests. A cat crossed the road. A lonely man walked his dog down an alley. A night watchman yawned loudly at a construction site. 

And suddenly there it was. Purple staining his line of sight. A welcomed color. Warm, but not in the artistic sense. It filled Kyle’s chest with hope. A beacon. When he opened his eyes, Kyle knew where to go. 

As if armed with the same powers, Mysterion walked out of his hiding place as soon as Kyle’s car stopped in front of it, as if he knew who the driver was. Kyle got out of the car and greeted Mysterion with a nod of his head. 

“What brings you here?” Mysterion’s question wasn’t as harsh as Kyle expected it to be. How come things changed in such a brief period of time? At what point did Kyle change his opinion about Mysterion? 

No. This was not the time for such questions. 

“I need to catch this criminal,” Kyle said, straight to the point, “and I can’t do it without you.” 

There was nothing on Mysterion’s partly hidden face that hinted at his real emotions. Kyle took a step closer to him, wishing for the millionth time to be able to read the vigilante’s mind. He needed Mysterion’s trust, now more than ever. 

“I trust you with this,” Kyle admitted, staring right into Mysterion’s eyes. “As long as you don’t let the killer touch you, he has nothing on you.” 

“Except for inhuman strength and lighting,” Mysterion said. 

Mentally, Kyle added claws and an unknown power to the list. 

“Did that ever stop you?” Kyle asked. He wanted to sound irritated, but his tone of voice betrayed him. Embarrassingly, Mysterion picked up on Kyle’s feelings immediately. The tension in Mysterion’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, and Kyle fought against the urge to reach up and touch the vigilante’s cheek. The only part of Mysterion’s body that wasn’t covered in black. 

Would the trick Henrietta taught him work on this dark man? Could he crack this guy? Could he solve this puzzle? 

Locking eyes with him, Kyle felt a shiver run down his spine. He was so close to a solution of sorts. The answer was on the tip of his tongue. Mysterion fidgeted. 

Coughing, Kyle took the list out of his jacket’s inner pocket. “Here,” he said, pointing at the name circled in green. “There is a high probability this man’s the killer’s next target.” 

“Jimmy Valmer?” Mysterion asked, surprised. “Why?” 

“He’s handicapped,” Kyle answered. “An easy prey.” 

“Then why didn’t he go for him first?” Mysterion asked. “Why go after three very powerful superheroes first?” 

Kyle considered it for a moment before answering. 

“The list doesn’t say what kind of powers these mutants possess. The killer probably tried his luck with one of them, but since he never used his first victim’s powers, they must have been a weak one. The Coon, Super Craig and Wonder Tweek were famous and, like you said, very powerful. By assimilating the claws and the super-strength, he would have been strong enough already, but to be able to channel lighting to do his bidding meant no one was going to be able to stop him afterwards.” 

“It’s a guarantee,” Mysterion commented, making Kyle laugh. 

“Yes, you can put it like that. This guy is taking his risks, but it worked so far. There are no other known superheroes in town, expect for you, and since you said no one remembers you dying, it means the killer has no idea what your special power is. After that last fight, I believe he doesn’t think you’re worth that much.” 

“Understandable,” Mysterion said. “You’re a clever guy, aren’t you?” Ignoring the blush on Kyle’s cheeks, he took the list from the detective’s hands and read Valmer’s address. 

Kyle watched him closely. For a fleeting second, he caught a glimpse of blond hair. The vision was gone the moment Mysterion looked up at him. 

“I know where he lives,” Mysterion said. “It’s not far away from here.” 

“Good.” Kyle was ready to get back in the car when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

“It’s better to go on foot,” Mysterion explained. “Your car might attract unwanted attention.” 

Kyle opened his mouth, ready to debate, but thought better of it. Nodding once, he pocketed his car keys and followed Mysterion to Jimmy Vamler’s apartment. There was no way he was out at this time of the night, and Mysterion agreed with Kyle’s proposal to keep watch until morning, just in case the killer showed up. 

They were going to wait and take shifts the whole week through if they had to. 

The hours passed slowly as they sat side by side, with nothing to do but keep their eyes on the window they assumed to be Valmer’s. When the sky started glowing pink and the first workers took to the streets, Kyle got restless. 

“Enough for today,” Mysterion said, standing up. Kyle glanced at him, feeling guilty for keeping Mysterion with him until sunrise when he knew perfectly well that the vigilante was a creature of the night. 

He owed more than a thanks to Mysterion for everything he had done for him, and the words were already on the tip of his tongue when the shockwave of a big explosion almost knocked them down. A woman screamed and Kyle snapped his gaze up at the gaping hole where Valmer’s apartment had been. 

“Goddamnit!” he cried. Ignoring Mysterion’s warning, he dashed to the building. Debris caused by the explosion rained down on him as he tried to open the main door. 

He didn’t expect what happened next. A yellow blur rushed down the stairs and opened the door for him, stopping just the time to look at Kyle and give him a big smile. Holding his crutches under his armpits, the guy gently pushed an astounded Kyle away. 

“Y-you’re here for t-t-the show?” 

“Jimmy Valmer?” Kyle asked, blinking in disbelief. A frown graced the other’s lips, but he didn’t have the time to answer before a blast of lighting tore down another side of the building. 

“There’s no t-time,” Jimmy said, looking up. 

“Wait!” Kyle exclaimed, but Jimmy was gone, like bolt of lightning. A hand on his shoulder got his attention, and Kyle spun around to face Mysterion. 

“Forget about Valmer,” Mysterion said, pointing at the sky. “We have more serious matters on our hands.” 

Following Mysterion’s gloved hand, Kyle let out a frustrated groan when he noticed the killer levitating in the air like Wonder Tweek used to do. Of all the powers he had assimilated, thunder and lighting sure were his favorite. 

Shaking him out of his thoughts, a hissing sound caught Kyle’s ears, followed by cries of joy. 

“Look at that,” Mysterion whispered, fascinated, a lopsided smirk upon his lips. Kyle stared at it for a moment longer than necessary before shifting his gaze towards the crowd that formed in front of the destroyed building. 

Jimmy Valmer truly was a hero. Despite the crutches, he moved faster than the human eye could follow his steps. In a matter of seconds, he managed to carry all the families trapped inside the building out to the apparent safety of the streets. 

“Look!” Mysterion shouted, pulling Kyle towards himself. “He can’t fly.” 

Indeed, the killer didn’t seem to be able to keep himself in the air for long. Wonder Tweek had practiced that technique for years before managing to perfectly balance himself in the air using his powers. The killer was just a newbie. 

“Valmer!” Kyle exclaimed, turning to look at the superhero, who arched an eyebrow in question. “Evacuate everyone that’s in the building! As fast as you can, and then run away, leave the state if you must! That guy,” he pointed at the man slowly descending on the ground, “has his mind set on killing you! Don’t let him touch you! He’s a copycat.” 

“R-roger that!” Valmer said, accompanying the words with a flick of his hand. Kyle had no time to wave him off. The guy was back inside the building, leaving a yellow blur behind as a reminder of his presence. 

“Mysterion,” Kyle said, turning his attention to the vigilante. “The only part of you left uncovered is the lower part of your face. Hit him with all you got. I’ll try to make things easier for you!” 

“How?” Mysterion asked, but there was no time to explain. The man’s feet had already touched the ground and he was now half-running, half-walking towards them. 

All Kyle needed to do was look at him in the eyes. If Henrietta was right, Kyle could do more than just read people’s minds and solve cold cases. In order to unleash his true power, he needed to concentrate, to trust his instincts, come to terms with his true nature. He was a mutant, end of the story. That’s why he was a good detective. 

The killer, dressed in black from head to toe as always, recognized them immediately and lashed out. Mysterion stepped in front of Kyle, bracing himself for the hit. 

A fist found Mysterion’s ulna, and a cry of pain escaped the vigilante’s throat as his bones cracked from the impact. Kyle needed to act fast. Fueled by anger, Kyle stared at the killer’s face, smirking when he managed to perceive the other’s yellow aura without much effort. 

Mysterion took a step backwards before he slammed his whole body against the killer, taking him by surprise. He struck a punch at the killer’s jaw, followed by another before his enemy could catch his breath. Super Craig had been a strong fighter, but his skin was human and vulnerable. Just like him, the killer’s nose started bleeding from Mysterion’s punches, a dark halo forming on his mask right where his mouth should be. 

Enraged eyes found Kyle’s, and he let out an animalistic cry as he kicked Mysterion down with all the force he could muster, right in the stomach. 

“Don’t touch him!” Kyle ordered at the top of his lungs, eyeing Mysterion worriedly as the vigilante dropped to his knees in pain. Mushed-up organs in a human body. The image of a decapitated man flashed in his mind’s eye. Bones. Blood. Guts out in the street. Hit by lighting. Pain. Darkness. Kyle started sweating. 

The man moved incredibly slowly, enjoying the panic in Kyle’s eyes as he bent over Mysterion, moving so that he could elbow him right in the cerebellum. A clean hit. Instant death. 

“Don’t. Touch. Him!” Kyle cried, and this time his powers worked. The man hesitated, his muscles stilled, but the grin on his face remained murderous. 

“Your eyes.” Hissing between gritted teeth, the voice that came out of the killer’s throat was soft. She was a woman. 

The realization sent Kyle stumbling backwards in shock. Momentarily free from Kyle’s restraints, the killer spun around and blasted a ball of energy towards the curious onlookers. 

“We have to get out of here!” Mysterion shouted, blood dripping from his bruised lips. “She’s going to kill everyone!” 

Kyle couldn’t argue with that. Mysterion tried to get back on his feet, but a violent coughing fit brought him to his knees again. Blood gushed from his mouth, causing a pang in Kyle’s heart. Again, death filled his nostrils. His skin ached. Drowned. Mutilated. Strangled. Shot. 

He couldn’t leave Mysterion there. He didn’t deserve to die like this. Kyle needed--! 

“Kyle, go!” Mysterion shouted when the coughing subsided. The internal damage was bad. Bad. Bad. Mysterion needed him by his side, Kyle needed to be with him. “Concentrate on the killer, Kyle!” Mysterion ordered, voice hoarse and strained. 

Blinking the tears away, Kyle turned to look at the killer again. People screamed in fear and agony as the woman threw another blast of light after at them. A few parked cars tumbled over and over from the force of each blow. The wail of the alarms was deafening. A blur of yellow light took some people to safety, but even Jimmy was not fast enough. 

Kyle needed to stop her! 

It’s in his anger. 

Concentrate. 

“FOLLOW. ME!” Kyle ordered, loud and clear. The determination in his voice froze the woman on the spot. Under Kyle’s astounded gaze, the lighting running up and down her whole body slowly dimmed. 

“A-angry b-bitch much?” Jimmy stuttered, suddenly by his side again. “Did I use to d-date her or something?” 

“This is not the time for jokes,” Kyle snapped, locking stares with the killer. “Take Mysterion away from here!” 

“Kyle, no!” Mysterion protested, pulling himself back up. 

“R-roger that!” Jimmy said, a little bit too cheerfully for Kyle’s taste. The woman remained still and finally, Kyle realized what was wrong with the whole picture. 

“Jimmy!” Kyle exclaimed, but it was already too late. Claws growing out of her fingers, Kyle watched in horror as she lashed out at Mysterion before Jimmy could pull him to safety. 

The vigilante’s mouth opened in shock, the claws spearing him from side to side. His pumping heart at the tip of the killer’s fingers. 

Kyle didn’t feel the pain. 

He might have started screaming, as the killer turned to look at him, her smugness apparent under all those layers of clothes. She raised her hand and took her black ski mask off, her long, blond hair falling on her shoulders. Kyle had never seen her before. 

“I said don’t. Touch. Him.” Kyle enunciated the words. She just looked at him, unimpressed, her claws still dripping with blood. 

“I need your eyes,” the woman said, strutting towards him. She raised her hand, but a hit from behind sent her stumbling forwards. With all the strength he could muster, Jimmy Valmer struck her again with his crutches, running away as fast as lighting when she whipped around to hit him back. Kyle was dizzy. Under his blurred vision, Jimmy and the woman started fighting, a foolish cat-and-mouse game where Jimmy struck when the woman last expected it, and ran away the moment she tried to pierce him with her claws. 

Kyle wasn’t paying attention. His mind was set on Mysterion’s heart, lying on the asphalt. A gruesome image. It made his blood boil. Blue dye engulfed him, a buzz in his ears preventing him from hearing the fight. Blood pumping in his veins. His fingers stretched out as if to touch the yellow aura before him. Invisible hooks crawled out from the blue shadows under Kyle’s feet. The woman was called Jessica Pinkerton. She had gone from foster home to foster house. Kyle didn’t care. The hooks locked onto the woman’s aura, stilling her. She was sick and tired of mutants. Her mother had been one too. A weak excuse of a human being. Kyle didn’t care. She realized she could assimilate powers only when her first victim died in her arms. Kyle didn’t care. Mysterion was dead. Dead. Dead. The man she killed was a simple matter manipulator, who could create openings out of nowhere. Kyle didn’t care. He didn’t care. She was going to be stronger than her mom, who was intimidated by her powers. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. He didn’t care. 

_You should_ , the woman said, _see where I started and where I am going_. 

“Just die.” 

Jimmy froze. Open mouthed, he stared at Kyle, not recognizing the person that stood right in front of him. Eyes rolled back, blue tinging his skin, Kyle looked simply homicidal. The woman’s face paled. She pulled at invisible restraints rabidly, groaning in frustration when her claws grew longer against her will. Her hands shook violently, her eyes fixed on them as if she was seeing them for the first time. Jimmy stumbled backwards from the shock. 

A clean wound. 

Jessica Pinkerton’s mouth filled with blood as she pushed her claws further into her stomach, letting out a strangled whimper. Kyle fell to his knees the moment Jessica’s eyes glazed over. 

The world suddenly fell into silence. Jimmy glanced back at the terrified on-lookers and winced when he heard the police sirens in the distance. Without a second thought, he picked up Mysterion’s and Kyle’s bodies and ran away to the privacy of a small back alley. 

It was there, hidden from the curious eyes of passersby that Kyle finally regained his senses. Mysterion was laid down next to him, a peaceful expression on his face. 

“What happened?” Kyle asked, looking up at Jimmy. 

“Y-you tell me,” Jimmy said. “I’m f-freaking out over here. What are you?” 

Kyle was not in the mood for chitchats. 

“Where is she?” he demanded. 

“Dead,” Jimmy replied. “Are you going to b-be okay? I should check on possible v-victims.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Kyle said, glancing at Mysterion’s torn-open chest. “Go. I’ll be there in a moment. I can hear the police sirens already.” 

“If you’re sure.” 

“Just go.” 

Jimmy didn’t need to be told twice, Kyle’s horrifying face still dancing behind his eyelids. 

The moment Kyle was alone again, he focused his whole attention on Mysterion’s dead body. How much time had passed already? Why wasn’t Mysterion coming back? Did Pinkerton find his weakness, a way to kill immortals? A stab to the heart, like vampires? Kyle wasn’t in the mood to laugh at his own jokes. This was not funny. 

Mysterion was dead and it was all his fault. 

A groan made his heart jump in surprise. 

Under Kyle’s shocked stare, Mysterion’s pale skin turned rosy again. His back popped into a straight line, his fingers twitching with life, the wound in his chest sewing itself back together. Laughing and crying at the same time, Kyle cupped Mysterion’s face the moment his sky blue eyes fluttered open. 

It happened in an instant. 

Kyle saw his reflection in Mysterion’s eyes. The tears streaming down his face, chestnut irises pigmented with green, flashing with adoration and joy. His bottom lip trembled slightly. What a pathetic sight. The picture of hope. 

“You’re back,” Kyle croaked. He saw himself form the words but no sound came out of his throat. Keeping his hands right where they were, Kyle slowly came back to his senses. Of course Mysterion would be back. Did Kyle doubt for a second Mysterion would be gone forever? 

Letting out a sigh, Kyle looked down at Mysterion again, only to be greeted with plain terror. 

“What did you do?” Mysterion asked, voice shaking. Shoving Kyle away, Mysterion shot up in a sitting position. “ _What did you do?_ ” he asked again, louder, intimidating. 

This time, it had the desired effect: Kyle recoiled in fear. 

“Nothing!” 

“You got inside my head?” Mysterion demanded, pulling himself on his feet and dragging Kyle along with him. “What did you see? What the fuck did you do?” 

“Nothing!” Kyle exclaimed, trying to push Mysterion away. “Calm the fuck down!” 

With a groan, Mysterion slammed Kyle against the closest wall, pinning the detective’s arms above his head. 

“Did you get inside my head, you backstabbing bastard?” Mysterion shouted, ignoring the way Kyle angrily squirmed under him. 

“There’s nothing to see in that empty head of yours!” Kyle snapped. His wrists ached. He pushed himself away from the wall, only to be slammed against it once more, Mysterion’s chest flat against his. “Calm the fuck down!” Kyle exclaimed. “Jesus Christ!” 

Mysterion’s grip loosened, and Kyle was able to slip his hands out of the vigilante’s hold. Still, Mysterion kept him pressed against the wall. 

“I was worried for you, you fucker!” Kyle yelled. “It took you an incredible amount of time to come back to life and I was- I was-!” 

Mysterion stared down at him, his lips twitching into a guilty frown. Kyle’s gaze felt drawn to it and Mysterion noticed. 

“You were?” the vigilante prodded, trying to get Kyle’s attention back on his eyes and failing. 

“I thought I lost you,” Kyle blurted. 

Mysterion took a tentative step backwards, but on impulsive, Kyle grabbed him by the front of his suit and kept him in place. 

Raising his chin, Kyle shivered when Mysterion’s breath caressed his lips. 

“I didn’t mean to get inside your head.” 

Mysterion grunted in response, but it sounded strained, as if he hadn’t really heard Kyle’s apology. A lump formed in Kyle’s throat. He could feel Mysterion’s pulse. His fear. His excitement. 

“You’re still doing it,” Mysterion said, all anger gone from his voice, replaced by something much more dangerous. 

“You’re letting me,” Kyle said, finally fixing his gaze on the vigilante’s eyes. “It’s your fault.” 

“It’s fucking not,” Mysterion whimpered, letting his mask slip away. Even if his face and body were still covered by dark cloth, Mysterion was suddenly naked in front of Kyle. 

A chestnut haired girl flashed behind Kyle’s eyelids. Someone shot her. She’s alive. The law is against them because her attacker is dead, shot down by her father. It was not self-defense, the jury sentenced. A blond boy hugged his sister close. A black cape. His first fight against the Coon. And then there’s Kyle. Kyle drinking juice. Kyle ordering coffee. Kyle. Kyle. Kyle. 

“Stop it,” Mysterion half-ordered, half-pleaded, but it was too late. Kyle was drowning in Mysterion’s memories and he wanted more, more, more. To read the book until the last page, from cover to cover. To call it his favorite. 

“Oh, God,” Kyle whispered the words like a prayer. He was not surprised. He should be. Shouldn’t he? 

“Stop it.” Mysterion closed his eyes when Kyle’s hand stroked his cheek. Another wave of memories, a stronger tsunami of emotions, Mysterion, no-- Kenny McCormick in his arms, holding onto him as if the one who died mere minutes before had been Kyle Broflovski himself. 

Kyle should stop now, before they melted into each other, before their memories and thoughts and feelings became one. Kyle’s powers might end up destroying the trust that was now connecting their hearts. 

Finally, he gently pushed Mysterion away. The world was again a desolate place, cold and cruel. Debris under their feet, traces of the past fight scattered around the dark alley. Kyle wondered where Jimmy Valmer was now, if he was talking to the police. He thought of him and then thought no more. 

In front of him, Mysterion was gasping for breath. Kyle dropped his arms to the side and didn’t call out for him when Mysterion turned on his heels and vanished into nothing. 

**** 

“… her childhood was very problematic,” Bebe Stevens said, noting every detail of Kyle’s recounting in her small notebook. Kyle leaned back in his chair and checked the time. He was getting off work in ten minutes and Stevens was still asking questions. Why did he even agree to this interview? Chief Wendy should have known better than that. 

“This is no excuse to go around killing people,” Kyle snapped, taken aback when Stevens let out a chuckle. 

“Of course not,” she said, putting her pen down and staring at Kyle with her bright blue eyes. “But Jessica Pinkerton’s story might give the government something to think about. This blind hate for mutants needs to be stopped. The real menace to society is ignorance.” 

“Is that what this interview was all about?” Kyle asked, giving the reporter a look-over. She looked like a well-endowed bimbo, from her blond hair to her fashionable clothes, but Bebe Stevens was not as brainless as people depicted her. Sensual lips stretching into a polite smile, Bebe stood up and shook Kyle’s hand. 

“Thank you for the opportunity, detective,” she said, sliding her notebook in her black purse and clicking it shut. “I’m glad this case is over and done with. Mutants shouldn’t be afraid to come out in the open.” 

“I’ll do my best to change the rules,” Kyle said, standing up as well. Bebe puffed her chest out with pride. Flipping her blond hair back, she made her way to the door. 

“Oh, just one question,” Bebe said, turning on her heels and piercing Kyle with a knowing stare. “Why do you think she killed herself in the end?” 

Kyle shrugged. 

“I guess we’ll never know.” 

Bebe nodded, although it was clear she wasn’t completely satisfied with Kyle’s answer. With a click of her heels, she opened the door and disappeared from Kyle’s sight. 

The clock struck five. Kyle could finally leave. 

Kenny was dealing with his last order when Kyle stepped in the coffeehouse. Their gazes locked, and Kyle felt a rush of love overwhelm him at the sight. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Not even five minutes later, Kenny was walking by his side. No destination in mind, Kyle was just content being able to be with him still. 

“I would have told you eventually,” Kenny said, finally breaking the comfortable silence. 

“I understand why you kept it a secret, Kenny,” Kyle said. He stopped and faced Kenny head on. 

“It was for your safety,” Kenny said, and Kyle’s gaze softened. 

“It was for _your_ safety,” Kyle said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

“I can take care of myself.” 

Kyle laughed. His heart clenched in his chest when Kenny’s lips tugged upwards. 

It was now or never, Kyle decided. Acting on impulse, he grabbed the front of Kenny’s parka and pulled him into a crushing hug. Kenny let out a surprised gasp, but Kyle just held him tighter, pressing his nose in the crook of Kenny’s neck. 

“Thank you,” he muttered against Kenny’s skin. He wished this hug could last forever, until they could melt into one, until their hearts beat in sync with each other. Kyle had no idea how much he needed it until his arms wrapped around Kenny’s waist. Kenny’s hesitation was palpable, but then he too relaxed and encircled Kyle’s body just as tightly. 

“Thank you,” Kyle repeated, swearing to himself he was never going to let Mysterion die in front of him again. 

This was just the beginning. They were now partners, the detective and the vigilante, two mutants who were never going to feel alone anymore. One day, Kyle was going to ask Kenny to move with him. His aseptic apartment was in serious need of someone who could brighten up a room with just a smile. 

Love. What a strange word. 

It strips you down, it can destroy emotional walls and move mountains. 

Kyle was going to tell Kenny one day. For now, let him enjoy this hug. Thank you. 

Thank you. 


End file.
